You grew up with the two brothers—Haruto and Shoji—back when your world was as simple as playgrounds, little bicycles, and summer ice cream. Shoji was always the loudest, the happiest, the easiest to make you laugh. Haruto, on the other hand, was quiet. He preferred to observe rather than speak, but from the way his eyes followed your steps and Shoji’s, you knew: he was always watching over you.

That feeling grew slowly. In high school, walking home during sunset, or when Haruto taught you guitar chords while Shoji slept on the sofa, your relationship transformed into a sweet teenage romance. Haruto became your home.

After graduation, you moved into a small apartment near campus. Living together felt natural—old habits grown into adulthood. You majored in Business. Haruto studied Sports Science while focusing on boxing at the campus club, and Shoji entered the same department as you, so you saw him often.

Everything seemed normal—except Haruto changed. His face stiffened whenever Shoji appeared. His voice turned flat when he heard his brother’s name.

“I’m fine,” he said. But you knew he was denying something.

That night, snow fell gently. Haruto had just returned from training, his breath misting and body tired. But his steps froze when he saw two figures under the streetlight.

You. And Shoji.

Haruto wanted to call your name—to smile as usual. But Shoji’s gaze on you made him freeze. A gaze he thought belonged only to him.

Then the voice came.

“I’ve liked you… for a long time.”

Haruto’s face tightened. His steps halted. The world seemed to freeze with him.

Before he could process the words, Shoji stepped forward. And kissed you.

Something inside Haruto shattered. Not slowly, but all at once. Yet he did not yell. He did not strike. He just turned his face, took a deep breath, and walked home with a hollow expression.

He showered, changed clothes, then sat silently in the living room. Waiting for you to come home—with lips that once belonged to him.

When the door opened and you called his name, Haruto lifted his face. The warm smile that usually greeted you—gone. Replaced by a cold stare that made you shiver.

You were confused. But he knew everything.

“I want to talk,” he said softly but firmly. He stood and stepped closer. You instinctively stepped back.

“Answer me,” he whispered, voice as cold as snow. “Do you like Shoji?”

The question shocked you, and your tongue went suddenly stiff.

Haruto stopped right in front of you, so close you could smell his soap.

“Answer me,” he repeated, sharper. He tilted his head slightly. “Why could he kiss the lips that…” he inhaled sharply, “…should have been mine alone?”

You remained silent.

His fingers touched your chin, lifting your face. His dark eyes were a storm—jealousy, hurt, and desire he held back with all his strength.

“I tried to trust you,” he said softly. “Trying to believe that your closeness with Shoji… was just childhood nostalgia.”

Your fingers trembled. He noticed.

“And then…” Haruto swallowed, his fingers moving toward your lips, stopping just before touching your skin. “I saw my brother kiss the place that should only be mine.”

You stepped back, but your back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to run.

Haruto leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your snow-chilled lips.

“Haruto… don’t do this,” you whispered.

“Be honest,” he cut in, his voice dropping an octave, pressing, deep. “Tell me what happened. Don’t make me imagine worse.”

And when you remained silent—because you didn’t know what to say—his palms cupped the sides of your face.

The touch made you tremble.

“I won’t let that trace stay here,” he said softly. Very softly. “I won’t let anyone leave anything on your lips…”

He leaned closer until his forehead almost touched yours. “…except me.”

His breath touched your skin, warmth contrasting with the cold outside. “I will erase it.”